


Change of Schedule

by DigiArt_Studios



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Cute, Dark, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-18 18:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18124985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DigiArt_Studios/pseuds/DigiArt_Studios
Summary: Philip Ojomo is tired of the same schedule. Killing survivors and going back to Autohavens, the place he despised. He hated the Entity, the survivors, Autohavens, and at times even himself. He longed for someone else, he didn't like being alone. Maybe it was time for a change in schedule.





	1. Bored

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm back after a few months, but I'm excited to work on something new! Hope you enjoy it and please leave any mistakes you noticed, critiques, or just a general comment. <3

' _One_..' Philip counted in his head, taking a step through the gas station doorway, looking up as he heard the near broken bell ring. It didn't even sound like a bell, but nothing was right or correct in Autohavens now. All because of _it_. Just thinking about the Entity brought a slight snarl to Philip's face as he felt a mixture of disgust and hatred boil up inside him.

' _No! No... calm down Philip,_ _it's_ _what_ _it uses against you. Save it for the trials, you_ _aren't_ _like this,_ _you_ _aren't a monster.'_ He told himself. He took a deep breath, and turned around, taking another step through the doorway that was the entrance to the place he used to work. The bell choked out another excuse for a ring.

' _Two..._ '

 _'Three..._ '

' _Four...'_

He continued counting. Each footstep, each choked ring that sounded like a person gasping for air, each turn, each small dust field of dirt he pushed with each quick turn. It was all a way to pass the "time". He wasn't sure if this place even had time. It was always an everlasting night, with the full moon placed in the sky like a sticker or hologram or painting.

He continued to count, to turn, to repeat, to do the same thing he always does. And each time he broke the cycle of counting, it was to venture to a trial. Which he despised. The survivors, or at least the people, always made it hard on him. And he hated them. He doesn't want to kill, he hates it, he feels bad, but he's forced to, and they refuse to see him as anything but a monster.

He hated just about everything in Autohavens.

What started as a nice start in America to help make money for his family, turned to a repetitive and shady job, to a crime scene that produced a boulder of guilt in his stomach, to his prison where he got tortured and mocked. He was stuck in a loop. He wanted to leave the loop, do something different.

But there was no chance.

Perhaps he could try though, maybe try and do something differ-

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud bellow. He didn't hear in his ears, but in his mind, as a large wave of energy shook the trees and blew dust in his face. It was the signal for a trial. He sighed, adjusting his scarf a little so it hopefully doesn't slip and that someone does kick it off like the last trial he had to go, but as he was preparing, drawing the symbols on his bell, cleaning his weapon, ect. A question popped in his mind.

What if he wasn't the only one? He's been alone the whole time he's been in Autohavens, seeing no life other than fabricated crows and plants, but he's overheard the survivors talking before he cloaks and strikes. They have a game they play, a guessing game. He's heard them say names.

 _"I bet_ _it's going_ _to go_ _be_ _the Trapper_ _."_  
_"No way! I_ _haven't_ _seen one bear trap on the_ _way to_ _this gen!_ _Haven't_ _heard a heartbeat either, maybe the Shape?"_

 _"I heard_ _humming_ _,_ _it's_ _got_ _to be_ _Huntress_ _."_  
_"I_ _was_ _right_ _next_ _to you. I heard a_ _heartbeat_ _not_ _humming_ _."_

 _"How much you want to bet Wraith?"_  
_"No way!"_  
_"Hah! I told you!"_

Philip has also concluded that the name they have given him was, "The Wraith." He didn't like it, in his opinion. It didn't really seem like it fit him, another reason he didn't like them. They assumed he was a monster that enjoyed the bloodlust, and gave him a name that fit just that. A monster.

It didn't take long before he closed his eyes for a few seconds, ringing the bell to say he was ready. When he opened them again, he was in a different area of Autohavens. He was now on a hill, and everything sounded sort of muffled. He was cloaked. He really didn't want to do this, but he had to.

The first thing he did was start walking to the red, glowing silhouette of a generator. Survivors were drawn to the generators like moths to light. It made it easy to find them. As he approached he could here them whispering to eachother.

"Saw some grass moving," a girl with her orange hair tied into braids, freckles across her face said, not looking up from the gen. He had nicknamed her, the Athlete. "But I didn't see anyone. So it's either Wraith or Nightmare."

"Did you hear a lullaby?" A guy responded, black glasses and a nervous, anxious, yet brave expression on his face. He nicknamed the kid, the Leader. They continued chatting for a bit, Philip letting them, mesmerised by how calm they were and how efficient they were with the gen. He continued stalking them, and he never even thought about the time passing by when the gen they finished burst to life, spotlights turning on and causing him to stumble back.

He had to get his head back in the game. As they started searching for another gen, he followed a distance behind them to make sure they don't see him. Eventually the Leader waved for the Athlete to follow him, and they ran off to another where they met with the Botanist, a woman with glasses, a beanie, and black hair. They also said their "hellos" before working on the gen.

Philip took his chance.

Standing behind the Athlete, knowing she would run the first chance she could, he started to ring the bell and uncloak. There was an explosion from Leader's side as he got up dashed away, Botanist following close behind him. Athlete tried to run, but ran into Philip as he uncloaked, wasting her burst of speed. By the time she pushed him out of the way, he had struck and used his enemy's skull and beat it down on her, causing her to shout in pain as she ran.

He followed her, trying not to let any distractions catch his attention. He noticed a pallet she was running towards and tried to beat her to it. She was inches away from it, reaching towards it to stun him, but he was right behind her. He raised his arm to lunge and-

~●●●~

Philip trudged his way towards one of the many barrels that were lit on fire. He sighed and tossed the bloody scythe down, letting it crash into the grass. He stared at it blanky, feeling no emotion. The words bellowed through his minds, words he's heard so many times.

_**ENTITY** _ _**DISPLEASED** _

Again the snarl appeared on his face. He hated the survivors so much. They never make things easy for him, and they're so cocky, **and they need to be put in their place.**

He took a deep breath, and sat down by the lit barrel, crossing his legs and slouching. His mom always nagged him about posture, sitting up straight, keeping elbows off the table, ect. He never thought he would miss it, at this point he's longed for it. He let out a shaky sigh, and looked into the fire. There was no warmth from it. The Entity didn't know how things worked, so it had no comfort, no warmth. He shivered a little, memories of his family and past life before he went to this wretched place.

He turned his head to his shoulder, and lifted his poncho, eyeing the fragments of pallets in his arm. ' _One, two, three, four...'_ Philip counted, ' _seven, eight...'_ He sighed. A few of them were pretty deep, with blood. Even though he was used to splinters and stab wounds, they still hurt. He was sure survivors didn't have to deal with wounds after trials, probaby because the Entity needs them healthy. He's seen them arrive in trials perfectly clean like nothing ever happened.

While he had to patch himself up everytime. If he's lucky the Entity sends him water to drink, but he always uses to help any wounds, even if it doesn't do much, it's something he's used to doing from when he had to clean and help with any injuries his brothers or sisters might have gotten. Brings back some memories.

He was lucky nobody stabbed him. His shoulder couldn't take it anymore. He sighed and started plucking out the splinters, thinking about his family and wishing he wasn't alone. He dreaded and longed for someone. Anyone. Hell, he would even take a survivor!

He also longed for change. Not to be stuck in some stupid cycle or schedule. Maybe-

The bellowing sound of the Entity stopped his thoughts, causing him to cover his ears and wince as the wave of energy came over him.

Maybe...

It was time for a change.


	2. A New Hobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After returning from a horrid trial, Philip bandages up his wounds and rests, thinking about ideas and ways he can pass the time in between trials, when he decides upon scavenging and making little objects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something weird happened while writing/publishing this. So please inform me of anything weird or strange.  
> Edit: Hopefully fixed it, needed to do it quickly though, so I don't think I got everything.

Philip trudged back to the gas station, basically collapsing onto the floor, heavy breaths with his arm in great pain. He shifted to lie on his back, even that taking alot out of him as he growled in pain. God, the survivors were merciless. Every pallet was broken on him, the arm he raised to defend himself whenever he gets hit felt like the bones were shattered, everyone had a turn stabbing him, and he felt miserable.

He groaned, sitting up, tears welling up in his eyes from the pain. ' _Fuck it._ ' Philip decided, before biting his lip and ripping out splinters. With each one he hissed in pain, flinching, but he bit harder and counted. One, by one. One. By. One.

By the time he ripped out the last one so brutally, his arm was a bleeding mess. It stung so bad. He stopped biting his lip, only to feel something warm dribble down his chin. ' _Fuck..._ ' now he has to pray that the Entity doesn't call him for a trial. He gets up, slouching a bit and leaning towards his right, trying to give his shoulder a break as his free hand held his bloody one.

He walked towards one of the shelves, weakly pushing aside some random and blank objects the Entity thrown in there for decoration. Some of them fell on to the floor, but he didn't care. He ignored the continuous clattering of the object until he found what he was looking for.

There was a med kit behind all the shelves that the company kept, mainly because a car wrecker isn't the safest job. As far as he knows, none of the survivors know about it. He grabbed it and sat on the ground, his legs pushing some of the objects away, sending one rolling and clattering down the basement. He chuckled. ' _How's_ _that for an offering, cunt?_ '

It didn't take long before he got to work, grabbing the gel that they used for disabling any possibilities of infection, along with some gauze and a small rag. He started wiping majority of the blood off his arm, and then wiped the gel on it, still hissing and growling in pain. Then quickly, he wrapped it up in gauze. He repeated the same steps on the stab wounds, though they were much harder.

Eventually he was done, and with a weak and shaky sigh, he stood up. He should be used to this by now.

But he isn't.

It's time for change. Nothing big, but he just wants something little. Maybe he could collect things. He didn't really know but he needed a hobby. He sighed again and slided down the wall. Once he regains some energy. He can't sleep, but he could close his eyes. He adjusted his scarf to where it was covering his mouth and dug his face in it a little more for comfort, brought his knees up closer to his chest, and leaned down, letting his arms dangle limply.

~ ● ● ● ~

Philip walked around the Autohavens forest, picking up any pebbles, sticks, or paper he could find. Scavenging, or collecting, he didn't know what to call it. But, it brought him some sort of happiness, which he hasn't felt in a long time. He crumbled up a peice of paper and shoved it in his pockets that were attached on his belt, hearing some pebbles slide around and the paper crunch a little. Sounded nice and pleasing to him.

Once his pockets were full and he started to head back to the gas station, something caught his eye. It was a tin can. He tilted his head at it, before remembering that they were everywhere. How did he not notice them before? Whatever. It doesn't matter.

He bent down and scooped it up. He didn't have enough room in his pockets for it, nor was it small enough to fit. He shrugged it off and held it in his hands.

He later came back to the gas station with an armful of tin cans and sticks, with the crumbled of pieces of paper and pebbles bouncing around in his bags. He felt so much better. Physicalwise- no, mentalwise- yes.

He shoved the remaining items off of the shelf, not caring where they landed, and started emptying pebbles into the cans. Maybe he could find some seeds somehow make a small garden in the cans, or draw on the paper or practice origami. He didn't know, but it felt nice to do something different for a change. He also set the sticks down on the lowest shelf, and sat down, one leg pulled close, and the other out. He smiled and started to hum to himself, as he unwinded some old gauze on his leg.

Maybe he could make some sort of dream catcher. He sort of remembers how, but vaguely. Maybe he could throw it in a fire too, see how it works as an offering. He continued unwinding more strands of gauze, grabbing the ones he figured were the oldest before having as large pile of dirty and bloody gauze next to him.

Normally, Philip would find this revolting and toss it away immeadiatly, gagging a little. But he could think positively and create something with the trash. It didn't take long before he grabbed some sticks and started winding them together with gauze, struggling to make them stick. What felt like hours or an eternity later, he finished one. It was messy, and barely staying together. The gauze wasn't nearly as sticky as he thought and the whole thing was off, but it was an attempt. A first try at something he hasn't done in forever, and that made a smile appear on his face, a very rare occurrence for him.

Despite being completely alone, he pulled the scarf over his mouth to hide his smile. He continued making more, his first one now hung on the wall with a small nail he plucked out of the wall. It wasn't for catching dreams, no, it was more for hope, good luck, or maybe just decoration. He didn't know, and he wasn't exactly sure, but he had made about 4 more, until he ran out of sticks and gauze. He stared at them blankly for a while, tilting his head at them, trying to figure out what he was going to do with them. Then it hit him.

Philip grabbed his dream catchers, his good luck charms, his happiness, and opened a desk drawer. There was a lock, but of course the Entity didn't know what locks did. It thought of them as decor and nothing more. He stashed 3 of them in there, then started to make his way to the closest fire, the sick bell choking out a wheeze as he walked through the doorway and to his destination.

Once he got to the fabricated fire, he held the offering over it. No warmth, so it didn't burn his hand. But, he couldn't let go of the dreamcatcher. Obviously he could, but he didn't want to. He got attached to it somehow. ' _Fuck... how do I get attached to stupid trash like this?! Just... let it go Philip... let it go,'_ his hand shook a little, before he threw it into the fire at full force, wanting to get it over with. ' _There.... i...i- did it... now I need to let it go...'_ He continued to nag to himself, feeling eyes tear up a bit so he wiped them off and head back to the gas station. ' _Let it go..._ ' He continued telling himself, not physically anymore, just mentally.

He shuddered and choked back a soft cry, not knowing why he was so upset over a little knick knack. He needed to burn it. It was an offering now, and he would have to burn more. The Entity better like it, because it took alot of misery just to burn it, and Philip is for sure that it thrives off of that stuff.

Then something caught his attention again, yanking him away from his thoughts.

...

It was a wall.

He walked up to it, tilting his head as he examined it. He's seen it many times before, catching survivors crawling alongside it a myriad of times. _'Wonder what's on the other side of it,"_ he wondered, wiping his eyes yet again to clear up any remaining tears, even if he still sniffled a little. Philip tilted his head up, but could only see the night sky.

Thinking about it, it would either be an endless forest or fog, but what if it was something else?

Something new?

He walked up closer to it, and ran 2 fingers along the bricks, feeling a texture. He could think of three outcomes: One, he dies. Two, he somehow gets back to Autohavens. And three...

Actually he didn't know.

He tried thinking about it, trying to come up with a scheme to climb it, just to get a peek, or maybe even jump it, when the loud roar from inside his mind triggered and the energy wave blasted through the area, shaking the wall and causing dust and dirt to fall off it.

It was time for another trial.

He looked at the wall again.

He'll figure it out.


	3. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming back from a trial, Philip quickly fixes himself up and starts to wonder about why he feels guilty about getting revenge on the survivors, when he remembers the wall, and gets a solution to climb it.

Philip limped back to the gas station, trying not to put too much weight on his right leg, blood dripping from his axe, along from his hands, the words, "MERCILESS KILLER" ringing through his mind. He hated the survivors, he made them pay, even if in the process he got a nasty burn, he made them suffer.

...

' _But why_ _don't_ _I_ _feel good,_ _about_ _it...'_

Philip continued to limp towards the garage, grabbing the medkit on his way, before propping himself up and sitting on the generator, his injured leg pulled close to him and other one dangling off the edge. He quickly got to work on the burn, but he was concentrating more on why he felt so guilty about killing the survivors, more than the actual wound.

But why? He got his revenge and they deserved it, automatically assuming he was the monster when he was nothing more than a pawn, hurting him worse than he injures them, humiliating him, and now talking shit behind his back. They had it way better than him, and it feels like they gloat and mock him whenever they are at the exits.

So why did he feel so guilty... it felt good killing them, but now he can't help but question it. Was it the right thing to do? Even if he was forced to, he tried to take it easy on them, to show them that he wasn't just a monster... but it never worked.

He finished up working on his leg, then let it dangle off the generator with the other, trying to make some sense about why he felt so bad. He sighed, assuming it was because of how emphatic he was, his siblings always telling him he cared way too much for others. He hopped off the generator, hissing in pain and flinching, landing on his injured leg.

He shifted his weight to his healthy leg and started walking, heading towards the back room of the building. They kept a ladder in there, and even though it's difficult to bring out of the door alone, he's had to do it multiple times, since people often slacked and not alot of people worked in Autohavens. He eventually got to the backroom, having to rip off a few boards to get to the door, sighing in relief to see the ladder was there.

Thankfully it was folded up, sitting neatly in the corner of the room, collecting a thick later of dust. He grabbed it, grunting a little since his arm was quite sore, but he tried his best to ignore it and stumbled through the door. It was so difficult, so heavy, and so painful to carry, but he had to do it. He needed to take his mind off of the continuous guilt. He needed to satisfy his curiosity.

He somehow managed to walk out the front door of the shop, the bell still choking out a weak ring, and walked to the wall that he knew was directly behind the gas station. He quickly propped up the ladder, adjusting it sideways and pushing its side into the wall, then taking a step back and groaning.

' _God_ _that hurt..._ ' He glanced towards the wall, ' _hopefully_ _there's_ _something_ _good behind_ _this_ _._ '

He put one foot on the first step, then stopped, staring off into space. ' _... wait._ ' He turned around and sprinted back into the gas station, quickly opening the desk drawer and yanking out a dream catcher, then slamming it shut. He quickly made his way back to the ladder, with his knick knack in his hand. He adjusted his scarf a little, and ignoring the pain shooting from his legs like electricity he climbed the ladder.

It didn't take long before he got to the top of the ladder, sweating and shaking a little since it wasn't exactly the sturdiest. But, he inhaled and climbed onto the edge of the top of the wall, thankful he didn't fall. He couldn't help but feel anxious, on top of all the guilt.

He didn't know what would happen if he jumped over the wall. As he looked over, it just looked like 100% fog. He could die.

...

Not too bad.

Philip took a deep breath and jumped the wall.

...

He felt grass. He actually landed somewhere. He wasn't sure where though, it didn't look like Autohavens. The grass looked darker to him and the soil was a much darker brown. He tilted his head, and scooped some up. He split his finger slightly and watched as it fell through the gaps, returning back to before he touched it. He dropped the soil that remained on his palm in a small pile as he stood up, still limping slightly.

He limped his way towards a tree, rubbing his hand along the bark. The texture felt off. So he definitely was still with the Entity. He looked up, seeing nothing but a foggy night sky. ' _Yep._ ' He continued investigating, before remembering his dreamcatcher. He completely forgot about it, even if it was in his hand. He stared at it for a few seconds, before using his mouth to unwrap a strand of gauze on his arm. Under the tree, he struggled (but managed) to tie his charm to his belt, then continuing.

He didn't want to risk losing it or breaking it.

He wandered around a while, before noticing something. He was cloaked. This wasn't a trial, he knew that. There was a certain aura he could feel when a trial was going on, and he couldn't feel it here. Maybe it was just because he entered a new area, but maybe it was for the better. He could try and figure this out when he gets back.

He wanders around, picking up anything that catches his interest and putting it in his pouches, along the way. Eventually, a faint wheeze grabs his attention away from a tiny pebble that shined with the moonlight. He looks up, and around, seeing nobody. He tilts his head, before hearing another raspy breath, and heads towards the source of the sound.  
It couldn't be a crow. They sounded weird, but they didn't sound like someone gasping for air or wheezing. A strange kind of anxiety and nervousness started to form in Philip. If it was a person, how would he know they weren't a survivor? That they wouldn't hurt him, or that they wouldn't call him a murderer? He bit his tongue a little, trying to push his thoughts away, before turning a corner of an abandoned building. He jumped at what he saw.

It was a woman, who seemed to wear a pillowcase or bag over her head, wearing something similar to a nurse uniform or dress, holding a bone saw. Her wheezing and gasping didn't sound muffled by the bag at all and it was unsettling. And she didn't look friendly. However, Philip had the urge to watch her for a bit, to get an idea of her. To see if she was nice or would hurt him.

His heart was pounding with anxiety. He was so afraid. Even if he was a "monster", he was terrified of taking to someone. All the people he's interacted with have been his victims, and all they do is mock and torture him.

As he watched her, she just seemed to wander around, like she was lost. ' _Or bored._ ' He tried to listen to her breathing, since she wheezed like she was sick. ' _Or in pain._ ' He tried, desperately to pick up any aspect of her personality, but she didn't do anything.

All she did was hover around, making it very difficult for Philip to try and interact with her, and only adding on to his anxiety. ' _I should leave... the Entity will call me to a trial soon, and I don't know what happens if I'll stay. I just need to be quiet and no-_ ' As those thoughts raced through his mind, he tried to stand up from his hiding spot, but his hand slipped and he broke a weak spot in the bricks causing half of the broken wall (that was in the middle of nowhere), to crash and make a loud noise.

' _Fuck._ '

Immeadiatly, the woman's head snapped towards where Philip was, and even though he told himself, ' _Stay calm, stay calm. She doesn't know you're here, she won't hurt me, and I'm invisible, she can't see me-_ ' He couldn't help himself from calling Azarov's axe, having the wailing bell and axe materialize in his hands.

Her breathing seemed to hitch to a stop, as she closed her hand into a fist and raise it, raising Philip's fear and anxiety, causing his chest to start hurting from how fast his heart was pounding. He didn't know what she was doing. ' _I need to g-_ '

He didn't get the chance to finish that though when she inhaled and dissapeared, causing Philip's heart to seemingly stop. He tightened his grip on his axe, paranoia filling his body.

His blood ran cold when he heard a loud screech from right behind him.


End file.
